So I am watching "Fleishman is in Trouble" on Hulu and in episode 2 there is a scene when he notices that his son watched a lot of porn on his computer.  He calls him him and says something like "Are you interested in this stuff?  Can I get you a book for kids with pictures?"  and adds "Just so you know, that's not real.  That's not how actual people have sex."  

It's healing, even with fiction, to see a parent act normal.  To act the way they're supposed to act.  To be loving and kind and sweet with their kids.  

When my oldest son got ahold of his father's Maxim magazine, he cried and cried and cried and told me he was disgusting.  He told me that I would forever hate him and that if he told me if I knew what he was upset about, I would never think he was normal again.  I have to admit, he was terrifying me.  I told him no matter whatever it is, it would never change how much I love him or what I think of him.  My mind went to dark places, I thought maybe he murdered an animal for fun or something.  But as it turns out, he liked "to see girls boobs in their bras".  I literally started laughing.  Had I been drinking something, there would have been a spit take.  And I said "Oh my god!  You are so normal!  There's nothing weird about that!  That's 100% normal!  I am so sorry you were so upset about this, but why do you think your father has those magazines?"  He just thought his father was gross.  And he wasn't wrong, but not for that reason.  Well, a little for that reason (he was a porn/sex addict, but my son didn't know that or what that even was, then again, neither did I at the time).  

When I was 12, I got ahold of my father's porn books, magazines, and movies (he was a porn/sex addict, too).  And my mother found out.  She sat me down and looked at me and said "What the fuck is wrong with you??  Are you just as disgusting as your father?  Do you know what type of people look at this type of crap???!!  Is that who you are??  What the hell is wrong with you??"

I just had another memory come up.  This same thing happened when I was around 5 or so, and my mother was trying to get my dad to make out with her in their bed.  So I laid on the floor in the hallway and looked into their room and laughed.  She came running out like she was pissed and started screaming that I was a "sicko" and there was "something wrong with me" for peeking at them.  "What's wrong with you?" she had asked me.  I thought it was hilarious.  I couldn't understand why she was so mad.  She's always acted like anyone who had anything to do with sexuality was a "certain type of person" and that type of person was a perverted disgusting person.  

Yet, today, she talks about sex like a goddamned pervert.  Like, somehow because her friends do it, she has to do it, too, and now she objectifies men (just kidding, she has always objectified men) and talks about them in very disgusting ways.  Also, she loves to talk about her and her dead husband's sex life, as though that's an image I want in my mind.  I swear, the next time she talks about anything like this, I will remind her of how she treated me as a kid and teenager (calling me a whore and a slut) and tell her I have zero interest in ever hearing her bring up anything sexual, ever.  

Sigh.  

That's who my mother is.  She's not loving.  She's not kind.  She's not understanding.  But she's also not smart, either.  She's dumber than a box of rocks (my father-in-law once said that about his mother-in-law and it always stuck with me).  Imagine a very stupid person coming out of the 1950's era where sexuality was so horribly suppressed, and then trying to navigate a husband who was so addicted to porn.  But still.  Whoever thought someone like her should be a mother?  I get she's incapable of many things.  One of those things is thinking properly.  She literally is so dumb that having a conversation with her will actually make you feel more dumb.  And that's always been that way.  It's not just because she's old.  But back in the day, when I was young, I thought her word was gospel.  I thought everything she said was the truth.  So when she said these words to me, they hurt.  Deeply.  She sent a message to me that my sexuality was disgusting.  And that's something I've carried with me for my entire life.  

But now I look back at that time and remember that it wasn't my mother who said these things to me.  I have never had a mother.  It was a stupid woman who was put in charge of watching me.  Like a drunken babysitter who has zero common sense.  Do you know what it was like growing up with a high IQ for my age (not horribly high, but higher than average) and having to be kept down by someone like that?  Like, I knew I was smarter than her.  But I was told I wasn't.  She took every single opportunity to make me feel like I was stupid.  Even as a little kid.  What kind of adult thinks that being smarter than an 8 year old is something to be proud of?  Granted, a potato may have a higher IQ than my mother, so it wasn't that hard to be smarter than her.  But still.  I could have went farther in life had I had someone who supported me, rather than my reaction of "do nothing" (some kids want to excel when they have a parent like her, and some do the exact opposite).  I could have grown up not being constantly shamed for any little bit of my sexuality that showed.  It's amazing what kind of boxes we can put ourselves in when our parents shove us in there and nail the lid shut.  I still have boxes I am trying to escape from.  And some I never will.  

Sigh. 

Well, that's my thought for the day.  Off to finish this episode.